Tag Archives: Love Actually

Lull

20 Dec
English: Alan Rickman at a Hudson Union Societ...

Alan Rickman. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Things are winding down before they gear up again.  Most of the Christmas shopping is done.  Half of the Christmas cleaning is done.  The bulk of the wrapping so far is done.  I’m waiting to do my fresh bits shop at the weekend and for my two house guests to arrive on Sunday; then the fever starts in earnest on Christmas Eve.

English: Liam Neeson at the TIFF premiere of T...

Liam Neeson (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Friends came to my house last night, banished the menfolk to the bedrooms, ate pizza and crisps, drank a lot of wine and ogled various male actors in Love Actually.  One likes Karl (so pretty, we never got beyond his character’s name); another likes Alan Rickman (go figure); the third tussled with me for Colin Firth until she spotted Liam Neeson.  I took Hugh Grant as a bonus. None of us had drunk enough to ask for Bill Nighy.

Deutsch: Bill Nighy bei der Valkyrie-Premiere ...

Bill Nighy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I had a good time but my head is banging this morning.  Not from alcohol – I’m such a lightweight, I get drunk just on the excitement of being in the same room as other people who are drinking.  One glass of wine and I’m hogging the karaoke machine; two, and I’m fast asleep in a corner.  

It was the late night and not enough sleep that had me fighting Spud for the paracetamol before he left for school: he also had a late night; he waited up to eat the leftovers.  I suspect that Toby also ate leftovers on the sly – he came downstairs this morning to throw up by the back door and went back to bed without asking for his breakfast.  As he is a dog who hassles Spud to get a move on in the mornings because he knows he will be fed as soon as Spud has left, I was all for calling an ambulance.

The banging has been interspersed with intermittent ringing.  Tory Boy phoned for a chat.  Ninety minutes later, he fobbed me and my sweaty ear off because he was on his way out to try to find a greasy spoon serving a full English breakfast. He lives darn sarf; he didn’t hold out much hope.  Southerners just don’t do greasy little cafés full of germs and tasty sausages like we northerners.

Colin Firth at the Nanny McPhee London premiere

Colin Firth  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I had just come off the phone when my friend called to tell me she found her lost keys.  Her husband dropped her off here last night and the Hub took her home because her husband was on an early shift.  Pity she had to wake him up to let her in.  Her keys were in his car.  Then my brother phoned to talk about THIS SECTION HAS BEEN CENSORED DUE TO THE DELICATE NATURE OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT EXCHANGES.

English: Hugh Grant at a charity fundraiser he...

Hugh Grant (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I spent the morning watching a bit of Johnny Lee Miller in Elementary and then trawled through old posts to find something of interest to tell you.  I’ve got nothing.  December 2009 it was all snow.  December 2010 it was all snow and the worst head cold I’ve ever had.  December 2011 it was all the worst head cold I’ve ever had.  I know September 2012 I wrote about the worst head cold I’ve ever had.  Either the germs are mutating each year to attack me with more virulence, or I’m a bit of a drama queen.

When I’ve lain down on my chaise longue for a while in my flowing robe, and rested with lavender cloths over my eyes, we’ll talk about it.

Christmas Is All Around Us

23 Dec
 

As the louche, has-been rock star Billy Mack in Love Actually reminds us, Christmas is all around us.  And nowhere is it more around us than in the news.  I read three sweet stories this morning, which I’m going to share.  As they say (many times) in the film, If you can’t …(fill in the sickly sentimental thing you need to justify doing)… at Christmas, when can you?  So, in that vein, if you can’t share sickly sentimental stories at Christmas, when can you?

The first was sent to me by PM at Every day I See A Cow (thank you): 

Tortured Cat in Christmas 2007

Image via Wikipedia

Merry Christmas Comes To One Family A Few Days Early

A child of seven lost her cat, called Merry Christmas, at Halloween.  She was found on Sunday.  Christmas at home was just what that family needed. 

I got that last line from the joke department of the Christmas Cracker factory.  It needs some work.  Where’s Pseu? 

*

Our own Stockport Express helped save the day for one little girl, by running an internet appeal:

Best present ever: Two-year-old Stockport girl reunited with her missing Teddy bear after internet appeal

If you’ve ever had a two-year-old lose a teddy, you’ll understand how wonderful this is.  If you haven’t, let me tell you about two-year-old Spud and his Ted-Ted-Teddy (that’s what he called it; I can’t believe he ever grew smart enough to get into a grammar school): Ted-Ted-Teddy went everywhere with Spud.  The trouble is, toddlers are easily distracted.  I can’t recall how many times we had to scour the house before bedtime, because Spud couldn’t – wouldn’t – sleep without his beloved teddy (about as big as my hand, which made him even more difficult to find), and had dropped him somewhere when playing; how many times I had to re-trace my steps when we had been out because Spud had seen a squirrel or a dog or a leaf and dropped Ted-Ted-Teddy in his enthusiasm to explore the exciting new world of vicious, smelly animals and mulch.

I hated that thing.

My sister-in-law had a moment of genius – she bought him another Ted-Ted-Teddy.  She had bestowed the first one upon him, so she thought it was the least she could do.  Problem solved. 

Much loved. (Much hated)

Problem doubled.  Spud now dropped two Ted-Ted-Teddies that had to be found.  I am ashamed to admit that it is entirely possible that for a while during my youngest son’s childhood, I hated my lovely sister-in-law.

The good news is, we always found him/them.  Usually, it was Tory Boy who found him/them.  Go Tory Boy!

A thought has just occurred to me: Tory Boy was always rewarded with love, praise and attention…could it have been Tory Boy, the foul fiend, who ‘lost’ him…?

Surely not.

Hmm.  Good job it’s Christmas, or it would be, Go, Tory Boy.

*

The third story is a tale of greed and post office inefficiency:

Dear Santa Letter sent 100 years ago found up chimney

Two Irish children wrote their Christmas letter in 1911 and sent it up the chimney to Father Christmas; it never arrived.  It was found this year.  Good thing, I say; you should see how much the greedy little beggars wanted:

“I want a baby doll and a waterproof with a hood and a pair of gloves and a toffee apple and a gold penny and a silver sixpence and a long toffee.”

*

The news here is that we are in for a mild Christmas.  No snow.  I’m not sorry.  It looks pretty until you’re lying on your back in it, having slipped on an icy patch and been concussed when your head hit a large, frozen dog turd.

Besides, I look like I’m having my own little snow party closer to home: I noticed this morning that the skin around my nose has cracked and flaked from the worst cold I’ve ever had, leaving me looking like a cocaine addict who can only get enough by burying my face in a bowl of the stuff. 

No pictures.  It’s not Christmas.

 

The End

20 May

Viewfromtheside’s theme this week is The End, given our impending doom tomorrow (which confuses me, because it’s not 2012 yet).

Some people are quite frightened by all the doomsayers.  I’m not worried because Christ said, ‘No one knows the day or the hour’, so you can be as specific as you like: I’m still watching Dr Who tomorrow.

I thought you might like to see my own version of the horror story that is ‘The End’; I came across this photo yesterday:

I was reminded of two things, which I will tell you after I have first insisted that I am not a body-hating miserable specimen of a woman, but a chubby lass who eats too much and exercises too little; I am well aware that the solution is in my own hands:

  1. One of my tasks is to lose a little weight; I haven’t made any effort in that area yet.  Maltesers act as a siren’s song, I’m afraid.  Guess I’ll have to stop <gasp> buying them.
  2. A scene from Love Actually, when the PM’s assistant talks of his love interest as having ‘a pretty sizeable a**e.’  It’s nice to know I could be in the movies.

And the silver lining, of course, is that when The End really does come, if I’m one of the survivors, I’ll have plenty of body fat to live off.  I bet you all wish you had a body like mine, now, don’t you?

My Top Ten Movies or, Why People Who Watch Films Can’t Count

22 Nov
Arnold Schwarzenegger as The Terminator

Image by xrrr via Flickr

Okay, I’d better start by admitting that there are actually fourteen on the list.  I did manage to rate them but I couldn’t leave out the last four; I can’t hurt their feelings, I’m afraid.  And yes, I know celluloid/digital things don’t have feelings…I suppose my anthropomorphism* of them comes from the same logic that led me to never say in my mind the code of the padlock to the outside bin cupboard in case identity thieves or secret government agencies read my mind** and accessed my shredded documents and potato peelings.  I only stopped doing it when it occurred to me that if the government has the power to read minds then they could probably get past a three-for-a-pound padlock without too much difficulty.  It was about that time I also decided to stop wearing the foil hat.

The List:

  • Terminator & Terminator 2 – T1 because it’s the greatest love story ever told (don’t scoff – Kyle came across time for Sarah: how many of you men out there can say you’ve done that for the missus?) and T2 because it’s the story of a mother’s love and redemption.  The fact that there’s loads of violence is simply a fortunate coincidence.  I never watched a violent movie until I saw T1: we were newlyweds living in a flat in Jo’burg and my brother and his girlfriend came to stay, bringing movies that had blood and guts but no romance, I thought, including Mad Max (if ever there was a prescient name for Mr Gibson, that’s it) and The Terminator.  I didn’t want to watch any of them but I was a new hostess and soppy in love with the Hub back then, and allowed myself to be persuaded.  I’m so glad I did.  I was glued to the screen (my brother’s a great practical joker) and I have loved T1 ever since.
  • Love Actually – what’s not to love, actually?  Great ensemble cast, interwoven characters, humour, pathos, the best wedding scene in the history of film, and Hugh Grant calling Margaret Thatcher ‘a saucy minx’. 
  • It’s A Wonderful Life – the best Christmas film ever made.  We made the boys watch it with us one Christmas Day.  Tory Boy protested loudly right up to the first five minutes in (particularly that it was in black & white), and then became engrossed in the film and outraged at George Bailey’s rotten luck and unfair shake at the world.  I’ve only ever seen him that indignant over a scratched dvd, so it was quite a conversion.
  • Forrest Gump & Field Of Dreams – I’ve read both of the books on which the films were based and much prefer the movies.  Forrest, Forrest Gump is an ‘idiot savant’*** and gets to hump a lot and Shoeless Joe Jackson is no Ray Liotta.  Mind you, neither is Ray Liotta these days: have you seen his face?  Euggh.  Why people have plastic surgery thinking it will fix growing old is beyond me.   
  • The Muppet Christmas Carol – the best Christmas film ever made: ‘Light the lamp, not the rat!  Light the lamp, not the rat!’  Brilliant!
  • Signs – M. Night Shyamalammmmm is a genius and I hope one day to be able to shake his hand and ask him, ‘How do you pronounce your surname?’  This film is the most scared I like to be, and it terrifies me every time I watch it even though I know the ending.  Which makes me about as bright as that dog who attacks his own leg:
  • The Last of the Mohicans – the one with Daniel Day Lewis.  It’s the only film in which I ever thought he was attractive; I guess I must like my men with long hair and wearing smelly moccasins.  We drove 100kms to watch this on our tenth wedding anniversary.  Mum babysat Tory Boy and we went for a meal and a movie.  I didn’t want to see it but the Hub was desperate, it was on its last week in cinemas, and I was still somewhat in love.  Of course, it was Terminator 1 all over again, but without the annoying sibling.  I once watched it on M-Net three times in one week.
  • You’ve Got Mail – the best three little words ever (I’ve been married a long time).
  • The Sound of Music – singing nuns and singing Nazis?  You’d have to be daft not to love it.
  • Moulin Rouge – any film that contains an Elephant Love Medley and an unconscious Argentinian gets my vote.
  • The Santa Clause – the best Christmas film ever made.  I love it.  Are you sensing a pattern?  All of these Christmas movies bang on about the spirit of Christmas and the true meaning of Christmas without once mentioning the story of Christmas.  But hey, that’s Christmas for you.
  • Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat – Donny Osmond.  Sigh.
  • The Untouchables – Kevin Costner in a mac and Sean Connery in the worst Irish accent ever, plus a fabulous soundtrack.  I love it.

And there you have it.****  Now, what does my list say about me?  It says that I have an obsession with Christmas, I love musicals and violence is fun.  It says I like Kevin Costner, Tom Hanks, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Rizzo the Rat i.e. I don’t have a type.  Therefore, my favourite all-time film would be a violent musical about Christmas, starring the thinking woman’s beefcake rodent.

*a word used deliberately to dispel the recent rumour that my readers are all better read than I am

**not as nutty as it sounds; there’s not much in there

***I use inverted commas because I’m quoting from the book.  I’m not sure in this pc world of ours if this term is still in use; though I have to say this is one time I’m in favour of political correctness because it’s a horrible way to describe someone.  If anyone knows another term, I’d appreciate you leaving a comment letting me know, and I’ll change it.

****Not quite: I desperately wanted to include Scrooged but a Top Ten stretched to sixteen and starring four Christmas films was a step too far, I’m afraid.  Carol Kane’s kicking fairy will have to go on another list: Mythical Film Creatures or, Why I Don’t Have Any Friends.

Now tell me about your favourite movies, please.  I’d love to know*****.

*****In case I missed a good ‘un.

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